


kings and queens and vagabonds.

by youtrashqueen



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Feels, Canon-Typical Violence, Character is named, F/M, Faeries - Freeform, First Love, Love/Hate, Orcs, Parent Thranduil, Snarky Elves, Soulmates, Tragedy, War of the Elves and Sauron, War times, Young Thranduil, by the way, character has a specific look, character is a fairy, made-up race, the usual
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-02-16 17:42:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13058946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youtrashqueen/pseuds/youtrashqueen
Summary: A legacy long forgotten in the smoke and fire that tore it down, ready to rise once more from the ashes. Such is, the story of the faerie princess that gripped the heart of prince Thranduil and left it to rot in grief and wrath. Fate has a wicked way of creating webs for people to tangle into, so what will happen when a King and a crownless Queen will meet again?





	1. all the king's horses and all the king's men

Matted, silvery tresses were tousled wildly by the north wind, fanning smoke high into the brightening sky and grey clouds that brewed storm in the distance. Fair skin plagued by ash and glossy ice blue eyes searched relentlessly through smog and fire, through ruins and the pungent stench of burnt flesh. Her bare feet touched the ground with hesitation, each step feeling like millions of knives driven through her soles as she swayed, losing balance once, twice. The thin silken robe she wore around her numb form,  was crumpled into fistfuls of blue around her delicate shoulders. Reddened, puffy lips trembled as fat tears clung to flushed, filthy cheeks, her chest swelling with so much pain that she could not even begin describe in words, overwhelming her like the waves of the sea crashing violently against the shore.

The erratic sobs were shattered by her throat, knot after knot preventing her from mourning as panic tightened at her breast and her stomach turned. Her home –her kingdom, her family, her...everything burned to ashes, decimated, and she could do nothing to stop it from happening. She could not fight by her brother's side or aid her sister with healing their soldiers, or even stand by her mother and father while the orcs came and tore everything down in one fell swoop.

As if they had been nothing but annoying little insects in their way to conquer for their dark lord.

After a choked cry, the silver-haired faerie fell to her knees gracelessly, cloak slipping from her hold as she bowed her head and her great locks of white touched the bloody ground. Warm trails of tears ran hotly down her face and she squeezed her eyes shut in desperation, hoping, praying to the great goddess that this was only a bad dream. The lingering emotions, guilt, regret, what if's, manifesting through questions she could not answer. Why had she been so foolish? Why did she have to disobey her father and run off just to prove something so stupid to him, just to show him that he couldn’t command her, couldn’t decide her fate, that he was not her king but her father? Now she was left with nothing but the burnt corpses of her kin and the ruins of the once white marble of her castle.

With an ear-splitting screech, she punched the ground in rage and shame.

Her cries did not cease as she slammed her fists in the dirt over and over again, body shaking violently as she yelled and cursed at the somber heavens, translucent wings raising at her back and fluttering with every quiver of her body.

...

Shea, the youngest of her siblings, daughter of the Faerie King Fafner and Faerie Queen Luel, was now alone in a world she did not know. Seven full days passed until she decided to return at the gates of her kingdom, seven days spent in the vast and mighty highlands, among the tall old trees and the dense woods surrounding her home as far as one could see. Long ago, when her mother was heavy with the child, her father built a cabin with his own two hands, a place of refuge that he offered to the infant as soon as she was born, as per tradition --expecting faeries always spoiled their newborns with gifts made by their own hand, as a part of them to live with their children forever. There, she often escaped the royal duties in exchange for peace and quiet when tension was abound between the members of her family, a much needed isolation and a present from her dearest sire. It was especially useful after the arguments with him, when there was no hole or cranny that could keep his wrath at bay, somehow, he knew to keep away from her only small reprieve.

It wasn’t hunger or regret that brought the runaway princess back to her castle, but the smell of fire and the panicked warning of the flora which ran through her very bones in the midst of her slumber, awakening her with an ache in her breast. In the darkness of the night, after lightening a few candles and quietly slipping the blue robe over her shoulders, the faerie left the safety of her cabin, anxious and scared while the very ground under her shoeless feet whispered of catastrophe and the trees wept loss.

It was after running through the forest for longer than she remembered, dodging brush and leaves on a path she knew too well, when she saw the sight that had her knees weakened and heart thundering into her chest –-of course, she gathered her wits enough to rush through the splintered gates of the ivory kingdom, panting and whimpering at the horrifying images of her fellow brethren fallen in battle, gauged by the crows that had gathered in feast. The palace was still aflame as her feet padded over the bridges that curled around the high towers of the white giant, her bare soles crunched over debris, calves burned with the haste. She ran erratically up the steps of her home, seeing only blood and corpses afire, some even belonging to the orc invaders. Her heart throbbed and panic rose with every stride she hurried to make. Heels painted red in her kin’s blood, the silverette could feel death breathing down her neck at every corner.

Not once did she stop and think of the risk she was taking by just being here. Not once did she worry about the foul orcs still being there, being slain by them,meeting with wild beast and whatnot.

She found her brother first, Rani, heir to her father's throne, with a sword impaling his chest, missing a leg, bloody and dirtied, wings ripped from his very back. His blank stare made the young faerie freeze in place, the gut-wrenching sight of her older brother now embedded in her mind as her eyes turned away and her throat constricted. “Oh my stars…” she sobbed weakly, finding that breathing was becoming a challenge in itself.

She was going to retch if she remained. With control she didn’t know she possessed, the silverette brought a trembling hand over her mouth and counted in her mind, many thoughts running through her head as her icy gaze fell on her brother’s sword laying forgotten by his corpse; she bent and grabbed the weapon with shaking hands as a means of protection, pitiful as it seemed. There was no time to waste. Her father, her mother, her sister, she had to hurry or...

Adrenaline running through her veins, she sniffled like a child and her vision became blurry with tears, but her feet took her further –what if, maybe…maybe someone was alive still, maybe survivors…just maybe.

Her heart dropped when she entered the throne room, however, the body of her father laying on his side, blood pooling around him, the cloak he wore covering his hip and the armor dented beyond imagination, his crown fallen next to his head that appeared to have been smashed on the white marble of the stairs to the royal seatings; stairs that she once skipped over with glee. The flags decorating the room had been set on fire, edelweiss flower, symbol of her people, turned into an ugly ashen rag. This was unbearable.

Sickness overtook her and she stumbled her way through the hallways, away from the sight of her father's demise, lest she would empty her stomach. Right now she was barely breathing as her feet moved slowly to where she knew her mother and sister would be in such moments of crisis. Without even realizing how she heaved or wheezed, the girl continued towards the west wing, through thrashed hallways and dead guards over which she had to step.

With violently trembling hands, she pushed the half opened door to her mother's chambers –-and she screamed as hard as her lungs could allow her. The body of her beautiful mother, the one that gave her life, scattered on the floor face down, stabbed through the back repeatedly and next to it, her sister's, Fira, killed in the same manner.

She crumpled to the floor and crawled over to the two as she began crying convulsively, reality slowly soaking in. Hysteria settled into her womb as she shook her mother’s body.

“Mommy! Mommy please, please answer me! Mother!” getting no response from the lifeless and cold, she scrambled by her older sister and gently rubbed her back “Fira, I beg you...Fira...don’t leave me all alone, you can’t do this!” her hands came up to her face and through her strands of white as if she were mad, raking her fingers through the roots painfully. “You can’t do this to me!”

Silence. Only the crackling of fire could be heard.

After a few good hours of weeping and screaming, the princess fell quiet, hugging her knees and staring blankly from a corner she huddled into, at what remained of her family. There was a numbness spreading through her body, something cold, like the chilling embrace, enough to make her understand the reality of her situation. How long had it been now? It was night when she arrived. Now it was dawn. The sun was crackling through the cloudy sky, she could see as much through the stained glass.

With a false bravado she did not know she had, the young princess stood on shaky legs and struggled to walk to her own chambers, gathering what she needed in a satchel that she hung over her shoulder, coins and jewelry, a cloak over her as to conceal her wings and her brother’s blade –-then, with her heart stinging, she returned to the throne room and knelt at her father's feet, avoiding the puddle of blood that crested through the cracks of the marble tiled floor.

Words failed her at first, she did not know what she could say. An apology, a prayer, a confession? What could she give to the fallen parent? Nothing would ale her mind, but she had to try, knowing full well that this would be the last time she would ever see him. Her lips trembled, a hiccup mangled her voice, but she swallowed sourly and tried again.

"I'm sorry, father, I am so…so sorry…I should have been here, I should have…I beseech you...for your forgiveness, wherever you may be, wherever your soul may have wandered--" her voice broke once again as more tears came along and fell shamefully down her face "I promise you, I promise... _papa_ , I will....I will live on, I will carry your blood, your burden and my shame, I will live, survive and search tirelessly for vengeance...". Clutching to that numb feeling again, she uttered a short prayer under her breath and kissed her father's cold calloused hand goodbye.

Gingerly, she reached out and gathered the crown in her hands, the white gold glaring back at her mockingly, stained and dented –-she was going to survive, she decided, as much of a coward as she was, as much shame as she must have brought to her kin for not perishing in the flames with them, fighting alongside her siblings to protect the walls of the castle, she was going to survive. Being the last of the lineage, the last to carry his blood, she had to, it was imperative.

With glassy eyes, she raised up on her feet and inhaled deeply, her throat hurting from all the smoke and foul smell that surrounded her. There was one detail she noticed as she recalled her route through her kingdom, one thing that the land lacked, one glaringly obvious element that should have been there and it was not. Why had their allies abandoned them to this fate? There was no foot of elf or dwarf set on the lands, nothing, not an elvish arrow from their allies, not a dwarfish axe, no tracks of either. Weren't the ones in Rivendell and Greenwood supposed to come to their aid in times of invasion and war? Her sorrow quickly turned into anger and rage and wrath as her heart pummeled –-nobody came to her father's aid. The cold facts registered in her mind. No amount of treaties or alliances had saved her kind.

There were times when his table had been filled with laughter and elves and dwarves, chants and promises made –-but in the end, they did not even reach their hands out to save her kin from dying in such a degrading way. The attack had been fast and brutal, but even so, had none of them gotten word of an army of orcs? Had none of them been able to alert her father of their pathway towards his lands? Doubtful. No longer was Sauron the only enemy in her mind. No longer were the orcs the only filthy foes in her periphery.

King Oropher had abandoned them, along with prince Thranduil –-she concluded bitterly as she walked down the stairs of the ruins that stood tall and proud even after tragedy struck. The icy glare prodded around her surroundings before she knelt and placed her hand upon the earth painted with blood and ash. She closed her eyes and her wings fluttered before they simply outstretched and remained unmoved. The very energy of the earth pulsed through her body like molten lava, whispers and wisps of the dead’s essence the only response received. Releasing a gasp, the young fae pulled her hand to her chest, the hopes of any surviving faerie butchered as she stood up once more. There was no living being on her land. The earth had spoken to her and there was nothing…only death and pain. Whatever survived this onslaught probably fled, she fed herself the possibility, maybe she was not the only one.

Surely.

Frozen into place, the attention of the silver-haired girl was caught again only when she heard the elvish horns, blowing in the distance and announcing their pompous arrival. She was not going to remain there and wait for them to find her, rescue her like some good intentioned folks –-oh no, she was no fool. They came to claim what was left of her home and she was not going to wait and become one of them. This was intentional and revenge clouded her judgment; oh, faeries were known for their vindictive ways, patient until the moment to strike was theirs for the taking. Bitterness ran through her like a virus and her legs sprung forward, dashing through the protection of the great trees that lined the walls of the kingdom, hiding her from the approaching army of the proud elvenking.

It was hard not to look behind and it was even harder to not notice how King Oropher descended from his elk and walked so confidently over the great bridge and within the ruins of her home. Many soldier elves came after him and tried to find any survivors and when that bothersome task was out of the way, the corpses were buried and the treasures emptied. She was there for it all, drinking in their indifference, watching as the dead were thrown into deep holes together as if that was all they were worth. Collective burials. Like vermins, like lowlives. They weren't even heavily clad in armor, not even prepared for battle.

One more single thing caught her eye and that was the figure of the young prince Thranduil, trying to enter as well, struggling against his father by the pillars of the bridge and being forced away by some of the loyal elven warriors. It was time to leave.

She removed herself from seeing any more, through the thick branches and endless greenery, refusing to remain there in fear of being found.

For hours she wandered aimlessly, putting distance between herself and her life –-until sorrow finally caught up with her and all was spilled as she crashed on the ground and wept after her loved ones, swearing revenge onto those that had betrayed her people.

How long until she stopped feeling? How long until she would feel empty? It was better than letting sorrow claim her so easily.

* * *

 

"Ada! Please, let me go in as well!"

"No, Thranduil…my men already scouted the area and there are no survivors. If any fled, they were probably hunted down and slayed, that is how the orcs carry out --"

"But they did not find her body, did they?" he countered furiously, trying to push by his father harder than before, blue eyes shadowed with pain and desperation. "Her body was not found, ionneg, yes, but the chances of her being alive are very unlikely given this was done by orcs. I have seen this before, stop at once and see reason," the older male ordered with bite in his tone, a hand on his son's shoulder as he forced him back, trying to appear calm in the face of tragedy. The prince, his spitting image, fought back against him with ferocity, spewing curses at the men that came to halt his attempts and pull him away on their lord's silent order.

Knowing his distress and sorrow, the elvenking's hard blue eyes softened ever so slightly "We need to go, Thranduil. If this was done by orcs then they must be organized in a mighty army, for King Fafner was strong and his soldiers well-prepared and if they are on the move then we need to alert the others and protect Greenwood." He tried to reason, his tone remaining strict as his son looked away with pained eyes, yanking his arms from the men, halfway to where the horses grazed and some soldiers pulled numerous chests full of valuables onto wooden carts. He would at least make sure that their memory wouldn't fade to nothing. 

“I am capable of walking on my own,”

Oropher was no fool. He knew of the feelings that bloomed between the youngest daughter of the faerie King and his own son and while he did not discourage it, he could not see his son at the side of her, just as he was denied to be by the side of Luel when they were just as young. It made sense to him now why his own father denied him the love he wore so openly for the mischievous faerie. Their kind, while so much alike in appearance, did not match very well with the likes of elves considering their prideful, emotional and greedy nature often triumphed over reason and loyalty.

It was a chance for Thranduil to move on and for him to find his son a worthy companion in marriage, as per tradition in the case of royalty. As grim as that sounded, perhaps it was for the best. Sauron had threatened to turn the Ivory Halls into ash and his old friend, Fafner, responded in mockery, confident in his ability to defeat the dark lord of the orcs --the brutality, the merciless killings, it left Arda weeping for its children, a race that had been violently wiped out of existence. It was a lesson for them all, it was a sign of the maniac's prowess. They served as sacrifice so that all the races would know not to take his word lightly. There could be no peace with such a fiend roaming their world.

Looking back at the patterns of smoke still raising lazily into the greying sky, the elven king bowed his head, telling his old friend, Fafner, goodbye for eternity and declaring his love for Luel one last time in the depths of his mind and soul. "I will avenge your death, mela en' coiamin. Mellonamin, I'narr en gothrim glinuva nuin I'anor."

When he returned, Thranduil had already mounted and forced his gaze away from his father’s prying eyes as soon as he appeared in his line of sight, expression distant and bitter while he kicked his horse forward. The elven soldiers followed his example and left behind the great ivory halls and the massacre that had ended the reign of faeries forever.

  
_One hundred years prior..._

Thranduil was finally satisfied that his father decided it was time for him to come along on his private affairs. It was his duty, after all, to learn and understand what he would have to do when he would take his rightful place on the throne. He trailed behind his sire, on a white stallion, while the mighty king rode the great elk, a symbol of prosperity and strength but at the same time one of grace and beauty. The soldiers, either on foot or on horses, were close behind when they entered a strange but mythical looking forest.

It had been a few days of riding and exhaustion was palpable amongst their people. Their movements became more sluggish and graceless, the pauses more frequent, despite the stamina his kin was known for.

These regions, he did not know of, so it was no surprise when the prince looked around in awe at the enormous trees and the colorful birds that decorated the vast forest. It looked very old but radiated life like he had never felt before –-"Remember your manners, Thranduil," his father made sure to remark, not even turning to glance back at his son. At this, the prince's lips pressed together in a thin line as his eyebrows furrowed together in annoyance. Oropher did not need an answer to know how he irritated his son with the comment, but he couldn't afford introducing him to a king if he was going to behave immaturely or disrespectfully, after all, he knew how King Fafner's personality and mood swings were and he wouldn't take risk.

When the forest cleared out, they came upon an enormous bridge made of pure white marble, carvings elegantly curling around it in patterns that resembled flowers as it guided them to the great ivory walls, decorated with vines and white lilies scattered upon it, as if intentionally climbing the tall construction to offer it an air of exquisite exoticism. There was only one thing that stood out and could be seen peeking from the walls that protected what was behind it, and that was a very tall tower, beautifully carved and holding one big silver bell atop it. Thranduil did not notice he had stopped until the soldiers walked past him and after his father, making him urge his white stallion while his eyes devoured the new and outlandish place his father brought him to.

"These are the Ivory Halls of the Faerie Kingdom," the elven king suddenly spoke as they neared the walls that surrounded the region. The gates of pure silver with carvings as the bridge, opened and revealed to them an entirely different world hidden behind –-edelweiss flowers ornated the buildings inside and everything was either white or silver –-no wonder they were called the Ivory Halls.

There was a smell in the air, one like nothing he's ever smelt, akin to the most perfumed flowers he's ever sampled by nose.

The architecture of the dwellings was so beautifully thought out that they reminded him of those he had seen in Rivendell, but with a playful grace. Bridges connected small regions to one another and tied hills together as houses were scattered around in perfect patterns, trees like those he had seen in the forest, towering and shadowing parts of the areas in white blossom, ponds and long streams of waterfalls and rivulets running between areas and cresting under the arches, with colorful fish he's never seen before.

In the middle, farther away from them, stood the castle, large steps laying before two great silver doors that opened as soon as they galloped inside, many armored figures gathering by a few modestly dressed group of four. What was most incredible were the creatures that inhabited these lands, elves with wings –-the prince thought at first, gawking as they passed the common folk by, their hair either raven black, chestnut brown or fair blonde –-he noted. Their wings stood erect on their backs, or fluttered as their curious gazes followed them, making Thranduil watch in wonderment. The nimble difference were the pointier and much longer ears that piqued from their locks, the shape of their faces, much more prominent features and contoured bone structure, making them look fairer in comparison to the common elves. There was an air of whimsical interest radiating from them as well, doe-like eyes peering, wings quivering and awed voices being heard. Most were dressed with little, showing off their bodies as if it was something quite natural, transparent garbs, sashes wrapped around chests and precious jewelry adorning their ankles, wrists and heads.

His father stopped in front of the steps to the palace and effortlessly dismounted his elk, bowing at the four figures that waited in front of the doors. Not paying very much attention, Thranduil followed his father's example and bowed when his father did, almost automatically mimicking the gesture, gaze not faltering too high.

"My old friend!" the voice surprised Thranduil, it was so playful, so expressive and joyous at the prospect of his father visiting. He dared raise his eyes when the figure approached and he quietly analyzed the man, King Fafner as his father addressed him –-had long silver hair, tied in a loose knot and braided, covered by a pale blue tunic and a silver cape draping over his shoulders.

He looked much like his father in age, with the lightest blue eyes he had ever seen. His gaze went further to the other three figures that remained behind as the King descended and welcomed his father –-a beautiful woman, with fair blonde hair that cascaded down her shoulders and to the back of her knees, stood there with a warm smile on her full pink lips, her eyes a grey-blue and her slender figure dressed in a simple pale blue dress that left her shoulders bare. If it weren't for the silver tiara resting atop her head, he wouldn't have guessed she was the queen, but the King's daughter. Another man, young-looking, stood next to the queen, sporting the same fair blonde locks tied like the King's, with the same kind of blue tunic and sword at his hip and gleaming silver armor on his chest, pauldrons and gauntlets. His eyes were as blue as the king's so he assumed he was the son of the two royalties that welcomed their arrival. Next, almost timidly, another lady, her hair the same blonde as the boy's, but with the same eyes as the queen's glanced towards him and gave a swift nod once their gazes met, her figure covered by a white dress exquisitely layered with silk and lace. Both the two younger ones wore tiaras almost similar to the queen's but slimmer, while the King held a more prominent one over his head, one decorated with a beautiful sapphire in the middle as the silver vines curled around his head thickly.

"Come, my friend, I have prepared a feast! It has been a long time since you last visited, have you grown bored of my company already? With foes in the horizon, I hope not!" the King laughed wholeheartedly as he glanced at Thranduil for the first time since they arrived "Is this your boy, Oropher?" to which, his father turned and glanced at him, eyes already telling him to not forget his manners "Yes, this is my son, Prince Thranduil, heir of Greenwood the Geeat." –-the king grinned and nodded in acknowledgment "I shall have the servants prepare another guest chamber! I am honored to meet you, elfling." The faerie king spoke almost dismissively, gesturing with his hand for them to enter the palace, something they did without hesitation.

Before the king himself entered the hallway that guided them to the dining hall, he stopped in front of his wife, by the entrance "Where is she?" –-a whisper that Thranduil caught easily "I don't know. I think she ran off again doing who knows what. I grow worried, my love, you know how dangerous it is beyond the walls," the queen sighed tiredly. The king ended the short conversation by taking her hand in his and leading her behind their guests to the table filled with all kinds of delicious cuisines and fruit. Choosing to ignore the issue for now, their host raised the first goblet of wine in a toast. 

"Welcome to my humble home, my friend. Please eat and drink to your heart's desire, let the wine pour in celebration!"

And so, it began.

Thranduil chose the seat next to his father's which was at the right of the King. The queen sat on his left and the two siblings next to their mother's side. Council members and other small lords had joined them to the feast and it didn't take long for chatter to start and laughter to erupt while stories were told –-and sometimes, he would catch his father's eyes wandering to the beautiful queen before lowering to the food and the fine dorwinion wine in his glass.

The prince did the same. He had always enjoyed the fruity taste of this particular beverage. 

Another thing he noticed was the empty seat next to the young faerie princess that smiled at him whenever she caught his eye. During it all, a soldier, a general by his armor,  came to the king's side and whispered something in his ear, making some of the chatter fade when the expression of the man turned serious. He stood from his chair, excusing himself and left just outside the hall, his wife swiftly brushing her hand over his wrist as he passed almost furiously by the table and out the doors. The chatter started again until some moments later when the king returned, another figure trailing behind him. He took his seat and his icy gaze sharply cutting at the newly-added member –-a silver-haired fae with eyes as icy as her father's, wearing a light frown upon her delicate features.

Truth be told, Thranduil had seen many beautiful elleth, especially now that he was coming of age and his body craved something more than just some companionship, but he had never seen one as fair as the creature standing a few feet away from him. When her eyes met his in a furious storm of emotions, his breath almost stopped, as if he had been struck by an arrow in his very heart. The girl sat in the empty silver chair and started poking around the food placed on her plate by one of the servants standing on the sidelines, her sister leaned in to whisper something in her ear almost immediately and made her gaze raise up to the now flustered Thranduil, his thick brows drawn together. The blonde one giggled, while the other smiled almost knowingly, making Thranduil extremely uncomfortable at that very moment. His father, aware of the new adding, turned to Fafner with a polite smile "Your youngest certainly grew up since the last time I have seen her," to which, the king looked towards her and within the guise of the loud chatter and laughs muttered tiredly "If only she'd have grown in mind as well. She is truly a handful, Oropher, I tell you. My eldest, however, she is ready to marry at last. I am looking forward to seeing grandchildren soon, if the goddess is willing to bless her with a worthy suitor,"

The cutting glare the young girl sent to her father gave away the fact that she heard that statement as clear as Thranduil had. The brother, carefully assessing the situation, turned to the silver-haired sister, over the sibling that stood between them and placed meat on her plate, making the girl raise her eyebrow at him. "You need energy, Shea. Leaves don't build strength," the young man spoke, giving his sister a light smile in order to ease the tension. So Shea was her name –-now that he thought about it, he was not introduced to the royal trio –-something the King himself noticed as well.

"Ah! I did not introduce my children, how forgetful I have become," the faerie laughed with a shake of his head, turning his gaze to Thranduil "Age must have gotten to me. My apologies, young one." –of course, he only apologized to be courteous, something that Thranduil only nodded respectfully at.

He leaned to his left, where his wife smiled adoringly at him "My love, you are simply distraught," she tried softly, their hands joining as he, as well, smiled at her with the same affection that she mirrored. The spell between the two was broken as soon as their eyes left one another, and clearing his throat, the king began:

"Prince Thranduil, this is my son, Prince Rani, heir to the Ivory Halls –" the young prince only having acknowledged the hand his father gestured at him, smiled and nodded in Thranduil's direction "—my oldest daughter, Princess Fira—" he continued, the blonde one next to the boy nodding with a smile as well "—and my youngest daughter, Shea, next in line, should my son get cold feet," he finished, giving the silverette and the boy a warning glance, which the girl returned in kind while she stuck her fork into the meat on her plate with more force than necessary, but then she locked eyes with Thranduil and gave him a dismissive nod. His father nudged him discreetly under the table, alerting him of having gone away in thought so deep that he did not realize his shameless staring at the young daughter of their host.

Nodding curtly, his attention remained on his plate for the rest of the evening. However, the playful faerie with the eyes of glass smiled devilishly to herself, already making plans for the prince that was brought within her home.

...

As night fell and the sky darkened, the prince found himself mesmerized by the view he had from his chambers, a sight overlooking the gardens behind the palace’s north wing, with a pond beautifully decorated and with a small settlement that looked like a bed nearby –-it was after a few moments of serene silence that a figure approached the pond underneath his balcony –-and it was none other than the faerie princess that stole his breath away. She was dressed modestly, in a simple, flowing silk dress that draped elegantly over her slender body, her hair left down in silver ringlets, reaching just underneath her bottom –-bottom that he noticed almost too fast as the garment contoured the shapes she held with the help of a breeze that blew lightly into the warm air of the night.

As if hypnotized, the elf prince continued to stare shamelessly again, his eyes set dead on her figure as she glanced up at him, freezing him in place with those wintery orbs of hers. What now? To his surprise, she smiled at him and her transparent wings fluttered before falling flat over her back. He didn't react in any way, he simply tried to remain calm there, looking somber and supposedly, unaffected by her presence –-if only she knew how his heart slammed in his chest, unlike anything he had felt before.

Then there were voices coming from behind him.

He glanced away for a moment, the sound outside his door gaining his attention, but as he turned back, he let out a sharp exhale of breath when he came face to face with the mischievous little faerie. She was sitting there, up on the rail of the balcony, grinning at him bemusedly as he stumbled back a few steps.

"Do I look that awful?" she chirped, her voice like the sound of bells. "No," he replied simply, not knowing what else to say. Why was he being so antisocial to her? Back in Greenwood he would have been the one to spark up conversations with any beautiful elleth that he gazed upon. In fact, he had the gift of a silver tongue, as many have told him. It was harmless flirtation, however, nothing came out of it. As an elf, you were doomed to be bonded to another for the rest of your days, unable to love others no matter how hard you tried. He never explored this phenomena, as it never interested him, not yet, not then.

But now?

"Thranduil, was it?" she began again, hopping off the rail and taking a step closer to him –-he reciprocated with a step back, unsure of her intentions or his own. "What are you doing?" he masked the helplessness in his voice with a sour tone "I was only curious," –-another step towards him mirrored by one back from him –-"Curious about what exactly?"

"You," she responded easily, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. This time he kept his composure when she took a step forward again, coming close enough for him to see her face from up close. She seemed to think the same as her eyes trailed over his, studying his features as if he were the most fascinating thing she had seen in a while. "Me?" –-he winched at his own question, having sounded stupid, but she smiled "Of course. I like beautiful things. You are very beautiful," –-and it was so bold that it took him aback, making his eyebrows furrow together "What?" –-she batted her eyelashes innocently "Do not think about it too much, Thranduil." Her tone suddenly changed to a much more sultry undertone as one of her hands pressed on his chest, the touch alone making him feel a bit too hot in his own garbs.

"I wish to have you. May I?" –-again, the boldness had him speechless as the temperature in his body rose with every passing second "Have me?" –-was it even proper for her to say these things? What did she mean by –-her hand trailed lower down his tunic and his breath hitched when it stopped at the leather of his pants. "I desire you, to be truthful."

"…Stop this." He managed to mutter under his breath, his arms shooting up to her shoulders and pushing her away gently. This was clearly improper. "No. You and I…our paths are intertwined somehow, connected. I know you desire me as well, I have seen how you look at me. I want you to be the first man to touch me and make me a woman. It must be you," she whispered her reasoning, making him feel incredibly reckless as he gazed down at her face and the way her hair cascaded down the skin her dress revealed, fair and flawless. Hypnotizing, that's how she felt, intoxicating to his senses, as if reason slipped away just by touching her. 

She suddenly leaned in impossibly close and hovered near his ear "Just like the stars and the moon have shown me. Just like in my dream," that husky whisper alone made him almost lose it completely, but she was there to catch him with her plump lips covering his, her slender arms that embraced him around the neck and the alluring scent that made him think of lilies and vanilla. The urge to recoil was trumped over by her subtle perfume. Dazedly, he submitted to her for a second.

"Your…dream?" he asked in a whisper after her lips left his, a light blush spreading on the adolescent's cheeks as her bosom pressed to his chest, intimately. "Yes. I have dreamed of you." –-was it even possible? Was it just a game she was playing? Because right now he didn't know what to believe while she trailed those fingers over the skin of his neck "Is this not how your kind shows affection? By being intimate? I have read in my books…" she trailed off insecurely this time, just as his ceruleans caught hers and for a second she was left breathless, just like him. For the first time, they held each other’s gaze in a lovers’ embrace, lost and found. He swore he could see winter in her icy irises and she swore she could see the sky in his.

It was just like in her dream. His face, his eyes, the way he looked at her, that glint in his pools of azure –-she had seen him in her dreams, but now he was as real as her wings, he was looking at her and it was not just an illusion of her mind. She was almost paralyzed when her sister whispered that her so-called soulmate was sitting at the table with them and made it obvious that he was watching her as much as she was secretly watching him. As soon as her eyes fell on him, she knew, but she kept her composure through the feast because it would have been foolish to act upon her petty dreams. Now that she was gazing directly into his eyes, she knew exactly what he was –-her heart raced and her stomach tightened, she felt dizzy and adventurous, she felt as if her legs would give out from underneath her. Lips parted lightly, they stood there like two fools, simply staring at each other while she held herself to him, hearts beating in tandem. And to think her sister made fun of her dreams when she would share them with her at the foot of her bed, speaking passionately of fate and a path that the great goddess had chosen for her. Now look at them.

Clearly, this was the hand of the goddess.

It felt like an eternity passed them by, until he leaned in slowly and captured her patient lips, understanding her to a level that seemed almost unearthly, a flicker turned into a spark, tingles in their stomach into lust, into a feeling of...belonging. Her eyelashes fluttered closed and she melted completely into his kiss –-he was not as bold as her and she probably came onto him much too forcefully, but now it did not matter, for they molded into each other's embrace as if tomorrow they were not going to be alive anymore.

Surreal and passionate it was; his strong hold of her, having her give into his kisses as they peppered down her jaw and her chin, his embrace so tight, as if he wanted her to become part of him while their bodies clashed feverishly. He surrendered to her and she to him the whole of the night, wanton moans and crumpled sheets underneath her fingertips, as they gave in to their desire for one another. When the first rays of sun bathed the kingdom, she laid into his bed, a sleepy smile on her face while he kissed the side of her head, over the temple, and held her to his chest in the afterglow of what had transpired.

The act and the consequences were starting to catch up with them, the prince especially.

"Thranduil, I must part with you. If my maid does not find me in my chambers, she will stir trouble," the princess mused with a chuckle as she sat up lazily, sore from the night they had spent together. "Must you?" he asked, catching her hand within his and kissing her knuckles affectionately, making her smile widen on her lovely face. "I will see you at breakfast, my prince," she teased as she stood and pulled her hand from him, gathering her dress off the floor of his chambers a second after. Thranduil remained in the bed, his lower half hidden underneath the linen, his eyes set on the faerie that gingerly dressed herself, indifferent to his stare, hiding every part of the flesh he had worshiped until sunrise.

Between their love-making, they had spent the time speaking of their lives, their experiences, their grievances, their hopes, their families, getting to know each other. 

"What now?" his question left his lips before he comprehended what it meant. Her eyes turned to him in wonder, the soft glow of the sun that rose, making her skin look brighter than it was already, giving her an ethereal appearance. "We will keep this a secret, surely. I don't believe you wish to face my father regarding this, do you?" she smiled, her wings stretching upwards "…No, I don't believe I wish to do that. I would like to leave your lands with my head still upon my shoulders," he smirked brashly at her, sitting up on his bed, elbows over raised knees. It made her laugh wholeheartedly, the sound leaving him completely smitten as she grinned, her eyes brightening up as she did so –-what a breathtaking sight.

"Shea."

Her gaze locked on his once more, making his heart leap in his chest. "Yes, Thranduil?"

"I wish to be with you," he muttered in a trance, not even believing those words left his own mouth as the faerie watched him bewildered. "Not only like this. I wish you to be mine…soul and body," he added, trailing off, sensing her intense stare as she stood there, unmoving from the middle of the room. The quiet made him anxiously bring a hand at the back of his neck to rub it, fingers tangling between the platinum gold of his tresses.

Suddenly, her lips curled into a smile and she walked up to him, one knee propped on the bed. Her hand caught his and she intertwined her fingers with his –-her warm and kind visage, loving and soft altogether, luring him in with the strength of a tornado. "I believe fate has plans for us, Thranduil. I am not sure if good or bad, but my dreams have been filled with you and if that is not a sign for something, then I do not know what is. Let us live these moments we have together. I have given myself to you, and I will continue to do so, my soul, my body and my mind…so be patient, yes?" –-she kissed the back of his hand and placed it upon her cheek.

If this was how love between soulmates tasted like, he did not want it to be finished, he swore he had never seen a sight like her, or felt anything like what he felt with her. It was as if he knew that she was the one he was going to give his life to, that she was going to be the one he would wake up to every morning of his existence, that she was going to be the one to soothe and understand him when the world did not, perhaps become the queen at his side one day and the mother of his children. She was his eternity at that very second, he knew it deep into his very soul –-a fate's string so strong, he was still in a daze. This was his bonded. He just bonded with another and he didn’t regret it for one second. Maybe he was going mad, he did not care. All he knew was that she was the one his forever belonged to.

How could this even exist, he asked himself once she left his sight. How could something like this even be possible and left at chance like this? More importantly, how was he so fortunate as to find his other half so easily?

After departing from the faerie kingdom, Thranduil started sending his lover, letters and small attentions, making even his father knowledgeable of the fact that his son was taken with one of the King Fafner's daughters. No elleth could garner his attention, royal or not. He could not blame him, though, he too was smitten with one a long time ago. Many more visits continued to happen after that, sometimes without the company of his father, only to give his beloved a secret embrace in the cover of the rose garden or steal kisses from her as they rode through the poppy fields on his horse; sometimes to simply show her how much he loved her with each day that passed, in the comforts of her bed, with the stars and the moon as their only witnesses and her skirts hiked up over her hips.

For a whole century, he courted her relentlessly, he searched for her, he craved her like a mad man and gave his all so she could see and breathe only him. He was ready to make her his after his last visit, he had proposed to her that they should marry, become what they were meant to be in the eyes of all. She had cried and embraced him, whispering her acceptance under the moon's light, in her chamber’s balcony.

First, however, she had to speak to her father, inquire and test the waters, as she had reasoned. After that, he hadn’t heard from her through letters for a whole three weeks.

Until that fateful day. Until she was taken from him by the army of orcs that attacked her kingdom and massacred her entire kind, erasing them from the map as if they didn't even exist to begin with, the only reminders of their culture being the ruins of their homes, tall behemoth-like walls that had been corroded by time and weather along with the carefully archived chronicles by the elder elves, forgotten on the dusty old shelves of ancient libraries.

For many years he grieved and mourned, for many years he held wrath as his sharpest weapon while he slayed orcs at the side of Oropher in the Battle of Dagorlad, where his father fell and he had to take the reins and return as not the heir and prince, but the King over his lands. The boy turned into a man and that man became hardened and cold as the sorrows gathered with time, with the responsibility that weighted upon his shoulders, the same as the crown he wore upon his head.

Milleniums ran by.

The past became but a ghost and so did the haunting smile of his first love, buried deep into his heart as he married, as he became a father and cared for his son….and as his dear wife perished in battle. There was a time when he believed his very soul was going to be torn out, so great was his pain. However, he remained unmoved, he remained strong and solemn, his burdens greater and his decisions more heartless, until he returned from the Battle of the Five Armies, 6000 years after the same fate had taken his everything…

* * *

 

 

_To be continued. This is a re-written version of an old story, used to be called nightriders._

_Thranduil in this prologue is 50-100 years old, so you can see he was young then..._  
_it is also why he is slightly ooc...I can guess he was not as serious or hardened by war then_  
_I kind of imagined him being more...carefree?_  
_and Oropher is still alive then yay!_

_mela en' coiamin = love of my life_

_ada = father_

_ionneg = son/my son_

_Mellonamin, I'narr en gothrim glinuva nuin I'anor. = my friend, the bones of our foes will gleam under the sun._

 

_Please comment, let me know if you want me to post the other chapters as well, kudos if you enjoyed and bookmark for updates? thank you!_


	2. look what you've made of me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is an update for my re-written story : nightriders  
> hope you guys will enjoy! see the bottom notes for translation~  
> song to go with this : Digital Daggers - The Devil Within

Scars are meant to tell stories, are they not? So why did the scars on her back make her hide her eyes in shame and anger, why did the scars of her heart make her feel ashamed of the choices she made? Perhaps her scars were not meant to tell tales with pride, not meant to be seen as moments that she survived throughout her life, but moments in which she wished for death to claim her, if only to bury the hatred and wrath that burned painfully in her veins. If only to wash away the cowardice and guilt she felt strong in her bones, rotting, decaying her soul.

A wet rag was slapped carelessly over her once flawless milky skin, that was now anything but, the scars on her back stinging with the reminder that those used to be her wings erupting from her shoulder blades. Mythos said that her wings would grow back, but after centuries upon centuries of waiting, she assumed those were just that; myths. Her slender fingers gripped the washing cloth again and she let the water string over her dirty flesh, over small nicks and dents about her sides, over her noticeable ribs underneath her breasts and her prominent collarbones. Food was scarce considering her situation –-who knew she would ever end up like this? From a princess to a thief, playing her flute in order to get enough money to buy bread or conning people of their coins, pickpocketing, tracking down people on contracts, all while being called a criminal she-elf by everyone who saw her features –-until she started wearing the cape over her head at all times, to hide her face and ears. She despised the comparisons greatly; she despised the elves greatly. Being regarded as one was insulting.

For now, she was going to enjoy her bath in the Esgaroth Lake after a long and tiresome journey from Dorwinion. Passing through the Mirkwood forest was supposed to be challenging, so she indulged in a little swim to freshen up and eat some bread before getting back on her way. She heard rumors of Mirkwood and the creatures lurking within the forest, but she was not afraid, she had her brother's sword at her side and an already hardened heart. Besides, this forest used to be called Greenwood in its good days, before the talk of beastly creatures taking over it started to arise. How bad could it really be? She succeeded through harsher environments. No matter how legendary the tales about its lands were, she knew of how grossly exaggerated myths could be.

She herself became a harmless myth. And faeries had been anything but harmless.

Sighing, she lowered herself into the water, going deeper and deeper until her hair was sunk completely, before emerging from underneath with a deep breath. Her worst fear was running into elves on her way, and while the chances appeared slim, she couldn't help the pounding of her heart. The Battle of the Five armies, as many carried the word, was graced by the presence of the elven king Thranduil himself –-only the mention of his name made her skin crawl. Regardless, her little escapade was not without purpose.  The item she was after, though, was priceless and information had it, the woodsmen village beyond the halls of the elves was where she was going to find it. An heirloom of her people as far as she was concerned, belonged to her and her alone. With a vengeance, her mind returned to the elven fool they called a king.

"King," she echoed mockingly, her eyes glaring blankly at the reflection in the water, her hand slamming upon it violently to make it vanish, only to splash herself and create ripples over the surface. The last thing she wanted was to run into those of his kin. He had to remain sure that she was dead, because he was just that for her, a slaughtered memory. After untangling her hair that grew coarse and ugly as time passed, giving it no care for she had none to spare, Shea, the crownless princess, emerged from the cold waters without even a flinch. Her body was accommodated with cold and hot altogether, rarely did anything bother her anymore considering what conditions she had to endure along the years. She grew into a beautiful woman, one would notice, a bit taller, slender waist, wider hips, the shadows of her once royal upbringing clinging to her like a parasite or like a shadow of what she had once been. Her hair grew longer, like her mother's, in small and elegant waves that remained unkempt and tangly due to no time or ways of keeping it as nice as it used to be. Sometimes she considered chopping it off with her sword, but she knew she couldn't…it was a part of her old self. Cutting it would mean killing the last bit of herself that she had left untouched.

Her hands grabbed around it and twisted it until it was tied all up into a messy white bun, then she pulled her clothing on. A simple ripped black tunic which she tied at the middle with rope, and brown baggy pants that hid any shapes she might have, then the boots in which she stuffed the pant legs, a bit big for her, but good enough to walk in when it came to risky terrain. Her cape came last and then her satchel, making sure she pulled the hood up and over her head and face –-nobody needed to see her without it, lest she would be confused for a she-elf.

As she started walking through the dense forest, from the river's side to where she left her horse, she could have sworn she heard a howl, making her eyes snap up and towards the direction in which it came from. No matter, she shrugged off the worry, it was much too far to reach her before she took off. Effortlessly, she mounted the brown mare as soon as she came upon the clearing and started back on the path she had strayed from earlier, one that was hopefully not plagued by elves -–after all, given the rumors, she wouldn't be surprised if she met with the army that helped defeat the orcs at Erebor. Her luck had a flair for dark comedy.

Besides, as news spread, while Erebor had been reclaimed by those disgusting snivelling shortlings, the king Thorin had also been slain in battle. The casualties had been great --not that she didn’t snicker at the information while in that stinky tavern within Dorwinion. Perhaps a dwarvish funeral had impeded that pompous bastard from--

A light frown took over her features and for a second she faltered, making the mare stop –-that was foolish, given the bad blood between the two races, despite the help they had received, it was very unlikely the ruler stuck by. They would have probably reached the Elven King's Halls by now –-yet, it would still be safer if she took another path, just to be certain.

As she was about to stir her mare towards a different direction, as her luck would have it, those forsaken horns resounded in the distance. For a very short moment and even though tragedy struck eons ago, there was still a string of dread and a sharp ache she felt in her soul. Since then, she heard the horns on countless other occasions, but every time she couldn’t help but be reminded of the past.

Her hands began to tremble upon the leather of the reins. 

Heart slamming into her chest, the fae's head turned towards said direction after a short pause, and counted. The earth thudded with the footsteps of the soldiers, lines upon lines coming forth as the trees whispered to her of the number of hearts galloping through. She could feel the thunderous energy approaching, the stench of death dangling over their shoulders as they marched.

"Curse my luck," she spat as she urged her mare to the left in a split-second decision. She knew how this would go, scouts would be sent forward to make sure the path was cleared before they entered and she didn't want to be caught on her merry way. Kicking the horse in the side, she sprung forward, deep into the dark forest onto a path she did not know and as fearless as she was, a little knot within her stomach made her question the stories. However, between seeing elves or meeting with deadly creatures, she chose the latter.

...

Thranduil's eyes bored blankly in front of him, the forest of Greenwood finally revealing itself to them in the distance, which meant he was soon to be in the comfort of his chambers with a glass of wine and the warmth of a crackling fire come sundown.

He lost many men in the battle, he even lost his battle elk, a prized possession, which made him very displeased, especially now with the departure of his only son, Legolas. Stopping just before the great trees at the entrance, he glanced back at several soldiers behind him and nodded his head towards the path, silently ordering them to act as scouts and make the road safer –-Tauriel was quick to join as well, her tear-stained face not yet dry from the events that had occurred.

"Tauriel," his grave voice stopped her in her tracks, but she refused to look in his direction, the shameful wet trails on her cheeks prevented her. "Let the others attend to this," he added, glancing away from the elleth and upwards at the greying skies. "I wish to go as well. It will clear my mind," she responded loud enough for him to hear, keeping her tone steady and back straightened.

Pondering it for a few seconds, he finally bowed his head in acceptance –-if she wished to do so and it was for her benefit, then so be it. Without even waiting a moment more, the red-haired elleth marched forward on her horse, the old path of elves revealing itself to her, eyes darting furiously from side to side as six others joined her as she picked speed.

The rumbling from above turned into rain and it started to pour over the tired elvish army –-yet they welcomed the soothing effect, even Thranduil, closing his eyes and reveling in the cold caress. Perhaps one of these days, he should make time to pay a visit to the statue of his late wife, bring her the flowers that she loved so much. If winter was to come, there would be no more buttercups to seam into a bouquet. How he missed her company now, especially now, when their son decided to break from his hold in search of a greater purpose..

Thoughts continued to plague his mind, every drop of rain becoming a burden on his armored shoulders. More so, the dead had to be honored.

Not long after their departure, the scouts returned, having cleared the road for the King with efficiency that had him close his eyes in quiet praise. He dismissed them with a jut of his chin and urged his horse forward into the forest, his features solemn and his eyes cold but observing, careful to keep his guard up as they made their way towards the Woodland Kingdom.

The light drizzle turned into heavy rain. And there was thunder in the distance, rumbling and a flash of light.

Suddenly, his heart leaped and he exhaled gravely at the precipitous feeling in his chest –-his eyes darted around almost dumbfounded as he came to an abrupt halt -–he hadn't felt this sort of stirring in millenniums, his stomach tightening in unfamiliar ways and blood rushing through him hotly as he tried to appear unaffected to his peers, all  while he kicked his horse to resume its path through gnarly old trees.

The questioning look from his general, the red-headed elleth, remained ignored. As did the curious gazes of his soldiers.

...

She rushed through brush and trees, the wind in her ears as her breathing heaved. It started raining and her clothes were soaked, her hair stuck to her face as she kicked the mare again, a dire wolf hot on their trail –-bless her bad luck. Spatting curses under her breath when she glanced back, the faerie was about to sigh her relief that she might have lost the creature, until it charged from her side, catching her off-guard and plunging its claws into the stomach of the mare. It missed her own leg by little and knocked her off the horse, sending her body flying and tumbling down on the ground with a painful crash that had her head dizzy.

Gasping for air, she crawled up on her feet, wild unfocused eyes assessing the situation. While the dire wolf bit into her mare, clearly famished, she slapped her hands over her mouth and tried to run through the slippery mud, grabbing at whatever she could to get far away from the sight.

If there was one then that meant more were to come, these creatures were hunting in packs, just like those spiteful orcs. Was this how she was supposed to die then? Live through obstacles that would kill many, but end up being bones that wolves chewed on? Surely, fate wasn’t that cruel. She still had to watch her foes fall one by one, she still needed to survive and stand upon their rotting corpses. She didn’t get her chance yet.

These alone, were reasons enough to make her strive and push herself further.

The only thing she could think of doing was to climb up a tree –-as if that was going to save her, but she was still safer there than on the ground. Twisting this way and that, she found the perfect one, rushing towards it in haste and almost slipping in the mud a few times. Breathing heavily, she clutched on the bark of the tree and pushed herself to climb up the trunk. The wolf, taking notice of her movements, licked its bloody maw and charged after her with the intent to taste faerie flesh. As soon as it reached the base, literally slamming into it with force that had Shea screech, it growled threateningly and tried to strike her by hopping up over the trunk, paws stretching upwards to slash, making her whimper and try to scale faster. Unfortunately, in her erratic clambering, one of her legs skidded trough and the creature hacked at it mercilessly, having caught it with its claws as it tried to drag her down. That was when she cried out in pain, but yanked her leg upwards nonetheless, using the other to kick at the wolf and climb further.

"I am not going to die like this!" she screamed as she settled on a higher branch, panting as the rain poured over her and made it impossible to even focus. She couldn't feel the pain now, due to the adrenaline surely, but she knew there was ripped flesh from her bone and she had no means of getting out of the forest now, not with a dead mare and a useless leg. Her eyes clouded over as soon as she saw more of the wolves gathering at the roots of the tree, making her heart pound with fear and frustration at the prospect that she might indeed meet her end.

Furthermore, she felt rage at having been caught in these parts, specifically, with a hoard of elves not far away. As blood trickled down bark and thunder rolled above, her eyes slowly closed, despite her stubborn mind revolting against her body.

"I will not....fucking...die like...this...."

...

The elven king was still urgently making his way through the dense forest, careful to the tricky ground underneath the hooves of the horse, Tauriel on his right as they rode in silence, the pitter-patter of rain as the drums of war in the distance.

"Have you laid eyes upon anything noteworthy?" he suddenly asked his Captain, forcing her reddened gaze snap in his direction "No, my lord." she replied simply, her emerald gaze lingering on the king’s rigid posture. No matter how absolute her answer was, he could not rid himself of the feeling that gripped at his heart, making him slightly unnerved, something unlikely to happen to him. "Are you certain?"

"Yes. Is there something wrong, Heruamin?"

"No," he answered curtly, deciding that maybe it was all just a feeling and while he wasn't one to simply shrug off his instincts, he couldn't deny the fact that maybe the battle had exhausted him in such a manner that he needed rest desperately, for his good health.

And perhaps, the leaving of his only child had proven to affect him more than he was able to admit.

It was then that he heard the distant cry and his head turned briskly in the direction it came from. As he stopped, everyone followed his example and halted, including Tauriel, with a light frown on her face as she glanced the same way, towards west of their position. It wasn't close enough to pose a threat, but it was close enough to raise questions in the king's mind. His cerulean gaze turned to Tauriel, silently demanding what she knew he would say. "Take six soldiers to accompany you and see to that. I shall resume my ride to the safety of our home. Report to me on your return."

The female nodded and glanced at the six elven soldiers behind her, motioning with her head to be followed, which they did without hesitation. Through brush and over surfaced roots, they galloped, until they came upon a clearing. The path from here was not to be used on horse back, the terrain was unsuited for that, therefore, she chose to leave the beasts tied up by the fat trunk of a tree. “We shall walk on foot from here onwards,” she gave the order, ears perking up at the sounds of howls. As she did not know what to expect, the rule was to be light on her feet and unburdened, same for the elves that followed her in her king's order.

They moved easily and swiftly between trees and branches, stopping only to listen to the silence of the forest and after they picked on the commotion again, they started tracking it down with inhuman skill and accuracy, until they finally reached the source's area. “Khila amin!”

Tauriel pulled her swords from her back and charged into the clearing, her eyes darting in assessment of the situation and fixing on a body clinging onto a branch of a tall tree, while dire wolves snarled and clawed, waiting for them to fall so they could rip her apart.

The first thing that they had to do was to get rid of the wolves and then see what was with the trespasser –flicking her gaze to the six other elves, she gave them hand sign instructions with the swift movements of her fingers, before they lunged at the beasts just as they took notice of their presence.

The alpha’s pack came barreling at her in the next second.

The elleth met it half-way, leaping up at the last minute and landing directly onto its greying furred back. Using her agility and flexibility, Tauriel quickly twisted her legs around its large neck, brought her blades high and shoved them through its skull, killing it instantly. The other six guards split into two groups of three, each taking down a wolf in almost the same manner as her, after which, they regrouped and loaded their bows with arrows, shooting at the remaining mutts and forcing them to retreat lest they die.

When she deemed it safe, Tauriel raised her hand, making the elves stop, before her eyes shot up at the curious individual still clinging on the branch they managed to scale. The elleth wasn't sure if they were still alive or simply passed out due to the wound they had on their leg, judging by the rivulet of blood running down the bark of the tree, which probably drove the wolves wild with hunger, but she was determined to find out. There had been enough death and she would have no more spilt blood, stranger or not.

"Are you alright?" she yelled, loud enough for them to hear her, but there was no response, no budge, which made her frown impatiently. They must have passed out then? With vigor, she marched to the tree and after analyzing a way to climb it safely, she did just that, a few grasps and a few skillful hops.

She had lost someone she loved today, she had seen her own kin slayed at the hands of the orcs, she could not take one more death.

As soon as she got up on the branch the stranger was on, she noticed their wound looked worse than she first assumed, the flesh ripped open and bleeding from the knee down. Flinching momentarily, she placed a hand on their back and shook, but no response. Then, she placed her palm in front of the person's face and felt their breath, much to her relief.

She needed to get them down from the tree. Glancing down at the six elven men waiting for her orders, she held herself tighter to the branch and leaned back "Help me get them down! They need the healer or they’re going to die!" –no soon did she speak, that two of them were already climbing to help. After some struggling, they eventually made it down with the body, trying to be careful, especially with the injury. Tauriel ripped some of their cloak and wrapped it around the massacred flesh, hoping it would stop the bleeding somehow.

It was only when the person was hauled over one of the men's back that the cover of the hood fell over the person’s shoulders and their --her face was revealed. Tauriel was momentarily stunned; she was an elleth! A teleri-blooded elleth nonetheless, by the looks of her silver tresses. She had never seen an elleth so delicate-looking and small of height –usually elves were tall and slender, but something seemed different about this one. Her features were a bit exaggerated, ears too long and pointy, lips too plump, cheekbones too prominent. Perhaps she was a halfling? Frowning lightly, she decided to waste no more time and gave the order to return, the girl slumped on one of the soldier's shoulders, carried carefully by the man.

...

"My king."

"Tauriel, speak." the tired elven king commanded as he leaned back in his throne, closing his eyes and sliding one hand over his temple. He was greatly awaiting the night to finally rest, before a head ache settled in. The council member that had been talking to him before Tauriel marched in mid-conversation, sat silently next to the throne.

"Dire wolves. They were attacking an elleth,"

"An elleth?" he asked, opening his eyes with short-lived intrigue. "Yes. She has --"

"Is she alive?" he interrupted, eyes sharp as he placed one leg over the other and lowering the hand over the armrest, seemingly bored by this topic already. "She is."

"Bring her here. She may be a messenger from Rivendell or Lothlorien," he sighed dismissively. "I can't. She was badly wounded and is currently unconscious," the elleth muttered cuttingly, her eyes not faltering from his face.

"Then do not bother me with useless conversation, Tauriel. Bring her once she awakens." –the king was not in a very good mood, and while she understood why, Tauriel couldn't help the snarky comment that formed in her mind before she left for the healing room once more.

...

The girl was laid in a bed, a healer tending to her leg, the process slow due to the depth of it. As the redhead entered, the healer nodded curtly and resumed her duty, letting Tauriel watch her work diligently.

"How is she?"

"Weak, Arwen en amin."

"When will she wake up?"

"I am not sure. She lost too much blood to make a fast recovery. Mankoi?"

"The king wants to see her when she does. He believes she may be a messenger, from Rivendell," the elleth muttered, sitting down on a chair by the bed. Her eyes couldn't stop analyzing the woman, curious about her origins.

Scrutinizing, the redhead allowed her hand to reach out and catch a strand of the silver hair between her fingers to look at it closely.

Suddenly, the elleth in question started stirring, her eyes only half-opened as she moaned in pain and struggled, making Tauriel shoot up from the chair to force her back down to the bed. "No! No…please! No…" her pleading was barely just a hoarse whisper, but from the tears clouding her eyes, she knew that the pain must have been what woke her up so startled.

"Yee! Ed' i'ear ar' elenea! Tampa!" the healer yelled, as she tried to keep her steady so she could heal her properly. "I know it hurts, but this is for your own good!" she added, putting pressure on the herbs over the wound, making the silver-haired girl choke out a scream, before her body stilled and her eyes rolled back into her head, effectively knocking her out once again.

"It must have hurt a lot." Tauriel mumbled, her eyes still on the injured's face. The healer only sighed tiredly as she let go of the girl's leg and backed away from the bed to get some bandages and wrap up the wound. "Yes, it must have. She struggled like a worm." the woman shook her head as she returned and started encasing the leg in crisp white ribbons.

"I will give her a tonic for peaceful sleep. She will probably awaken again late in the morning, until then, it will be silent."

Tauriel nodded and stepped back from the bed as well. "I shall come tomorrow then." with a curt nod, the Captain left the healing chambers and went to retire to her own room, in hopes of sleep, as the exhaustion of the day caught up with her before she even realized it.

It was a pity that the haunting image of Kili's face had her break down in tears as soon as her door was closed. Back resting against the wood, she slid down and pulled her knees to the chest, shamefully hiding her weeping face into her arms. She could manage a strong façade, but when she was alone, how could she? The elleth succumbed to her sorrow, fat tears rolling down her face and broken sobs echoing her empty, cold, walls.

...

Thranduil retired to his chambers much later, after long discussions with his council and paying his respects to the blood spilled on the battlefield, the sorrowful families, mothers and wives.

The ache in his heart was too great, even for a strong king such as him.

He sat down on his bed, leaning over and placing his head between his hands with a sigh, the locks of blonde falling gracefully over his shoulders like a curtain. After some moments of silence, fingers trailing upwards, he swiftly grasped his crown between his fingertips and pulled it from his head, bringing it in front of his eyes and gazing almost bitterly at it.

His only son had left, the last of what remained of his bloodline. If only he knew the weight he carried upon his shoulders; but how could he? It wasn't as if he wished that for him, yet, at the same time, he would selfishly give anything to be as young and carefree as him, not bothered by consequences or responsibilities, hot-blooded, with the world at his feet. A ghost of a smile pressed on his lips, eyes parting from the crown –her smile was haunting him once more, as soon as his mind wandered to his blossoming years as a young elf.

Then, the smile faltered and faded. The crown was placed on the table as he stood up and dragged his heavy cape to pour himself wine in the ever awaiting glass, resting by the bottle on the lectern. With a grave sigh, he raised it to his lips and took a sip; it was futile to lose himself into the past.

With every intoxicating drop, her smile grew distant and her eyes, a blur.

"Cormamin niuve tenna' ta elea lle au'"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heruamin = my lord  
> Arwen en amin = my lady  
> mankoi = why?  
> Yee! Ed' i'ear ar' elenea! Tampa! = eek! by the sea and stars! stop!  
> Cormamin niuve tenna' ta elea lle au'= My heart shall weep until it sees thee again
> 
> please kudos, comment and bookmark if you enjoyed! love you all!


	3. what a wicked game to play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and i bring you a new chapter!  
> please comment, let me know if you like this or not~  
> kudos and bookmark too, just to be safe, y'know :P 
> 
> song to go with this : Ursine Vulpine ft. Annaca - Wicked Game

_"The elven prince has taken an interest in you," Fira spoke with a knowing smile, one that teased her younger sister through the reflection in the mirror. The other fae closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of the wooden brush stroking through her thick silver locks –-until her sister yanked on a strand, making Shea scowl and open her eyes._

_"What was that for?" she asked venomously, making the older fae smirk in satisfaction; "That was for not paying attention," she chirped simply, melodiously, before she resumed the grooming of her sister's incredibly long mane._

_"I just chose not to dignify that with a response," Shea spat in an irritated tone, her glacial gaze falling over her hands as she played absentmindedly with the sapphire ring on her finger. Fira only shook her head "I do not know what he sees in you, honestly. You are incredibly and ridiculously immature and foul-mouthed," –-somehow that made the silverette glare up at the blonde in a very unsettling way. "Are you perhaps…jealous?" –-the sickly sweet tone that honeyed her words was merely a cover for the venom that dripped from her lips, something the blonde caught wind of fast, hand stuttering to a halt as if she just realized her mistake._

_"Why would I? I have my own—"_

_"Lover?" Shea interrupted, grinning smugly at her fly of a sister that fell so easily in her intricate web "Fira, we both know how you fancied Elrond, the elf from Rivendell—and how furious father was when he caught you oogling him so distastefully, I am so glad that he was sparred the headache that is your incessant clinging and whining. Stars forbid the day he finds you a worthy husband instead of the stable boy you like to ride in the hay every so often," –-it was known that the younger's tongue was sharp and stingy; it was also known how she was always aware of everything that was happening around her, even if she presented herself as oblivious and uninterested in most things mundane. It was no wonder that their father was training her mental prowess more than her physical abilities or duties as a future wife and bearer of heirs. Fira was envious of Shea, she wished she would be seen as more than the one who would birth children and nothing more –-her brother was heir to the throne and her little sister was one of the most brilliant people that she met, trained to become a council member and an adviser to her brother one day –-to the future king. Then there was Fira, the absolutely ordinary one of the three, not that smart and not very good with weapons either, just bland, just pretty enough to be someone's wife, or a bargaining tool in case of conflict between kingdoms._

_She stopped brushing her sister's white-silvery hair and let it slip from her fingers. "Don't worry, Shea…I won't tell father about your little affair. Though, do you really believe that he hasn't taken notice yet?" the smile that curled on her lips made her believe it was a victory in wits, but when her sister's glass-like eyes locked on hers, the smile faded –-"I hope he did. I am not like you, Fira, I get what I want and I fight for what I want. I don't lack courage or intelligence. I do not cower away or follow like an obedient little imbecile with no ambition whatsoever, but to be pleasing to the eye when I spread my legs," –the fae spoke gingerly, an innocently fake smile on her rosy lips._

_"Father was right to envision you as a council member. You are manipulative and rotten, like a snake, you will fit right with them," Fira finally uttered, placing the brush on her sister's vanity. "It is called ambition, big sister. Why must you get so dramatic after you have challenged me?" the girl mused, eyes set on her like a predator. The blonde was such an easy prey, so vulnerable, so naive, so weak and available._

_"You believe I challenged you? I merely stated the fact that the elven prince fancies you. Was it so hard to take it as such? Why must you be so defensive about everything? I am your sister, not an enemy, not a diplomat who you have to attack with words and question the integrity of," the older fae was flustered and angry, having to deal with her sister's stubbornness was the worst thing, humiliating through and through. The silverette looked away guiltily, but her words of apology were choked, smothered in her throat by her pride –-it was becoming her second nature to behave like this all the time, she acknowledged; her father had taught her to always question other people's ulterior motives and real intentions, always take everything with a grain of salt, always outwit them in every field and however you could, even if you had to play dirty and use underhanded strategies. It had been repeated to her so many times that she did not realize how she was attacking Fira sometimes, even Rani. Before she could say anything else to placate the conflict, her older sister was gone and she was left with a sour taste in her mouth._

...

"Has she awakened yet?" the voice of Tauriel, echoed through the room as the healer mingled about with some vials containing healing substances. "Not yet, my lady. She is still into a deep slumber," the older elleth replied breezily, continuing with arranging the bottles on the shelves as if the other female's apparition was completely normal and expected.

Tauriel, after passing by the mender with a sparing glance at all the odd colored liquids, walked up to the bed and looked down at their temporary guest, the unknown elleth sleeping profoundly –-at least she didn't feel pain any longer. She had been changed into a plain cotton gown and cleaned up by the elleth that took care of the damaged leg, possibly with the help of some servants, she assumed. 

"Did you find any message on her?" the redhead suddenly asked, remembering her king's orders and presuming that perhaps she was carrying a message on her person. "No, my lady, I did not find anything in her clothes. Though, I wonder, what kind of elf would even dress in such rags?" the healer shook her head, not even turning to face her superior, intent on getting the sorting of medicines done "But I did find old scars on her body, probably from battle, judging by the shapes and sizes," she added, as a matter of fact.

Tauriel's eyebrows furrowed together at that, glancing up towards the curer inquiringly. She looked too nimble, too small and malnourished to even be able to hold a sword or any weapon for that matter, she did not look like a warrior, so where did the scars come from then? 

"Where are her belongings?"

"Over there; I wanted to throw them away," the healer pointed to a corner of the room, where the muddy and ripped clothes sat in a hump on a wooden chair by the washing basin, where their patient was probably cleansed beforehand. Tauriel wasted no time in words and went to rummage through ripped, dirty tatters and everything she could get her hands on, until her fingers brushed against something hard and metallic from within a hidden pocket of her pants. Pulling as hard as she could, she slit the material open and the object fell on the floor –-a pendant. It was extremely beautiful and intricate, made of white gold, fit for royalty, a blue sapphire glaring back at her. Was this woman a thief? She must have stolen this from somewhere. It was the only logical explanation that she was willing to consider.

Tauriel stared puzzled at the piece of jewelry, pondering on what she should do, until a soldier came into the room and broke her away from her thoughts. "Nikerym, King Thranduil requested that you bring the messenger," –-the male nodded his head respectfully and waited patiently while redhead glanced at the bed, where the woman slept and then back at him with mild annoyance. "I will come with you," she finally answered, letting the pendant fall over the pile of clothes and walking up to the guard. Bowing his head, the man followed closely behind as the redhead led the way to the throne room.

...

"Tauriel, manke naa re?" from his voice, she gathered he was extremely displeased. He sat atop his throne, the cape draping over the seat in elegant waves of material, his cold eyes looking down upon her with a finely controlled irritation that made her cringe. "She has not awakened yet, Heruamin," she spoke as clear as she could, keeping her betraying thoughts at bay. Whatever the woman was, she was of their kin and she needed rest after who knows what she has been through, especially with that ugly injury.

His eyes narrowed noticeably and his annoyance was threatening to break surface in the form of a twitch in the corner of his mouth "I might as well ride to Rivendell myself and ask for the message!" his voice thundered as he stood in a furious storm of green velvet and blonde tresses.

"Heruamin—"

"Dina!" –-she flinched at his harsh tone when he interrupted her. "Lead me to this engwarer. I will awaken her myself if I have to!" he was definitely furious and impatient today, which meant, denying him this would turn rather bad, so the elleth simply nodded as the elven king descended down the stairs of his throne, a frown upon his features that made him look strikingly terrifying. With the events of the past days, she could hardly blame him for his sour mood; no matter how diplomatic and patient a crown-bearer was, there stood a fine line of how much their head could bow under the heavy pressure.

* * *

 

As soon as Tauriel left, the healer returned her sole attention to the wounded, bandaging the injury anew as she hummed, her long brown locks slipping down her shoulders every time she leaned to inspect the treads while she dressed the damaged flesh, mostly to assess the state of the delicate binding she managed, one of her finer works, if she said so herself. Suddenly, the leg jolted and her eyes immediately snapped to the woman's face, finding her stirring awake. With a gasp, she sat up, making the elleth jerk away startled "Av-'osto!" –-but the woman was breathing heavily, her wild wintery gaze darting around the room frantically until she settled upon healer and realization dawned on her. 

"You're an elf," and as if that word alone burnt her, she twisted her body to jump from the bed, careless and oblivious to the wound, the elleth trying to reach her before she injured herself further. "Please return to the bed! You are still—"

"Stay away from me!" the woman screamed, eyes catching sight of a scalpel, near some herbs on the table by the bedside. The mender, following her attention's line of fire, swallowed thickly, feeling cold sweat starting to form at her temples and back. Light on her feet, she lunged for it at the same time the wounded did –but the silverette was faster and as soon as her hand gripped the handle, she slashed the healer's arm in an impulsive reaction to the prospect of being captured, then held the point of it at her throat, threateningly.

"Do not touch me!" her eyes were ablaze as she warned, out of breath, so the healer slowly backed away to a corner, afraid, trembling and holding her bleeding arm to her chest. Wasting no time, the fae rushed out the door and paused in the middle of the hallway, trying to determine quickly which way to go, before taking her right in hopes that it would lead her out of here.

As soon as she opened her eyes and saw the elf, she knew where she was and she was not planning on remaining in a place that crawled with them. Her heart slammed against her ribcage and her feet felt numb, not even the fact that she was barefooted registered in her mind. She slowed down at a corner and peeked around just enough to catch sight of any guards –-when she saw none, she darted through the hallway as stealthily as she could.

It was obvious that the elleth she attacked was going to report her escape and more elves were going to be on their way to catch her, especially after what she did, but she was not giving up the opportunity she had at getting out, not out of fear. 

Heavy footsteps echoed the hallways, in a rhythm that was alarming, seeking --she knew from that moment that guards were sent after her, something that made her face contort into a scowl –-how did they even find her in the thick of the forest? What were the chances of her being found by Thranduil's elves? Fate was a cruel mistress, she decided then, and her dreams from when she was a young maiden spoke clearer now than they ever did. She was meant to go through this, her path was intertwined with his no matter how long she remained in the shadows or ran away from her miserable past; perhaps this was her curse and she wholeheartedly embraced it like a fool back then. For now, all she wanted was to run away from the son of the one that took the treasures of her people, that gave no aid when it was needed and let her kin burn alive.

Closing her eyes, she evened her breath and hid under a staircase, letting the darkness mask her presence and mold itself to her body until she came up with a plan.

...

As the king walked towards the healing chambers with Tauriel close behind in tense silence, a guard, having noticed them, halted their stride with alarming news "My lord, the healer was attacked by the woman that was brought in here. She ran away, perhaps it would be wise if -–" but the king made his way past the elf with rage clear upon his face, lacing his expression into an ugly snarl. Tauriel's eyes widened when she heard of what happened, momentarily frozen to her spot, even as the king marched forward with purpose and fury in his gait, but when the guard met her gaze with uncertainty of what to do, she composed herself enough to jog after their elven lord. 

They entered the room together, where the woman was previously kept, Tauriel making sure to draw her bow and arrow. At the sight of them, the healer bowed her head, while another was dressing her wound, the pale skin painted with a furious red mark. Thranduil was livid and Tauriel could not believe that the girl did that --could it be possible that she was an assassin? Was this a ploy? Did they bring a snake into the breast of their wooden realm? The fact that she had the strength to not only get off the bed, but the energy to try and slay an elleth dead, was remarkable in itself. 

"My lord, she ran away! She may be dangerous!" the woman wailed, making the king narrow his eyes in hot, burning rage. "Catch that ungrateful wretched creature!" his voice commanded, spilling wrath in his wake as he made to walk out of the room, until something caught his attention from the corner of his eye. Something that shone and twinkled from a corner made him pause, casting a glance to the little thing that sat upon a hump of dirty clothing, so sublimely out of place, brilliantly blue and silver, like the stars on the sky. Tauriel, already having given the order for the girl to be seized, noticed his lingering gaze, and, believing that he was interested by what she had discovered of the woman, she walked over to the clothes that belonged to her. This was the right time to reveal her findings of their uninvited guest. 

"These were her clothes, my lord. I found this pendant hidden well within—" she took the pendant from the pile and held it up, but before she could utter the next string of words, he strode up to her so fast that she was stunned into silence as he snatched it from her hand and brought it up to his eyes, staring at it with disbelief, his lips parted slightly, like he was struggling to make sense of something.

_Her beautiful white locks spilled about wildly as she ran, her smile widening sweetly upon her lips whenever she glanced back at him. She loved playing these games with him, hiding, running, teasing, until he caught her, it made his desire for her flare like an untamed fire whenever she challenged him intellectually or like this, either escaping from his kiss or slipping from his embrace, then beckoning him to her in the most alluring way –-but he was always trapped within her spell, within her blizzard-like eyes and he chased her restlessly, no matter how childish it seemed, no matter how futile it was, as the end result was always the same; her underneath and him between her legs. The poppy fields of her home were a place they escaped to often, either to be away from their responsibilities or to simply be free with each other._

_Now he was hot on her trail as her giggles filled his ears like a titillating melody. It wasn't long before he wrapped his arm around her small waist and pulled her back to his chest, catching her lips hungrily and forcing her to crane her neck so she could accept it, smiling to his mouth in delight. His hands enveloped her middle completely and slid to her hips before he twirled her around and pulled her flush against him, her fragrance bathing him in luxurious notes that he could only describe as, simply, her. His eyes locked with hers and she playfully grinned up at him. "Not here," she whispered and kissed his jaw affectionately, her arms draping over his shoulders. "I will be patient then, for the night to come," he countered boldly, making her raise her eyebrow at him and retract her arms from his neck._

_"Oh? Is that all I am good for?" she chided teasingly, her hand absentmindedly patting around her neck in habit, aiming to play with the necklace around her neck when she flirted. He was about to comment on that, before he saw how her eyes widened and her hand trailed along her collarbones, finding nothing. "My pendant!" she exclaimed, panic in her voice. "I couldn't have lost it! My mother gave it to me, by the stars…" her frozen irises then darted around her surroundings and finally, settled on him. "Thranduil, help me find it! I cherish that pendant...my mother would be so upset!" –-of course he couldn't deny her, even if it was the last thing he wanted to do after the little minx had lured him so, but he complied._

_They spent the remaining of the day tracing their steps back and searching for the pendant, until he found it on the ground over the grassy roots of the tree they had slept under, long before he started chasing her like a fool. When he did, he looked upon it and he understood why she loved it so much, it was truly breath taking, the pendant gleaming like pure starlight as it dangled between his fingers. "You found it!" she mused, shifting next to him and turning around for him to place it back at its rightful place, only, he was more entranced by her exposed neck and shoulders as she held her hair up; instead of the necklace, his lips were the ones that trailed her skin, making her breath quicken. "I will put it back after I am done with you, melamin."_

His heart almost stopped when he saw it clearly in his mind's eye and in reverie, his thumb brushed over the stone languidly. Was it possible? Who could have stolen this and from where? She had it with her everywhere she went, all the time, she would have died with it at her neck. The prospect of finding her or what remained of her made an electric chill run down his spine, an old ache spreading through his body. 

_"Ada! Please, let me go in as well!"_

_"No, Thranduil…my men already surveyed the area and there are no survivors."_

_"But they did not find her body, did they?" he countered furiously, trying to push by his father, blue eyes shadowed with pain. "Her body was not found, ionneg, yes, but the chances of her being alive are very unlikely given this was done by orcs."_

It couldn't be possible. This woman must have been a thief. He needed to know how she came upon this. 

With no explanation, he rushed out the door, his eyes scanning the hallway wildly as his heart beat quickened at just the mere possibility of finding clues as to what happened eons ago. Even after so many years, how could she have this effect on him? How could she still make his heart race in such a ridiculous manner? Love was true when it made you writhe in your sleep, when it haunted you every time you closed your eyes, he knew that much, but the way she affected him was beyond any of that, beyond anything one could imagine. He mourned her death until he could no more, until it left him empty and wrathful, hateful, vindictive and sour. Perhaps he had finally earned the right for closure, the right to know what came of his beloved.

His cape fluttered behind him as he walked, expression grave, lips pressed in a thin line and hands into fists, the necklace swaying between his fingers as he passed by some hurried guards.

"Find her!" he shouted again, glancing back, to make sure his orders were understood. The whole fortress was being torn apart from that moment forth, each guard was looking for her; and the king, even the king, restlessly wandered in hopes that he may find her, an old longing in his heart weighing hard on his chest with each step he took.

...

As soon as the area was deemed safe, she cautiously walked out of her hiding spot with small mouse-like steps, sneaking around pitifully, hiding behind wooden columns or walls, trying her best not to scream in frustration when she found herself trapped, what with guards everywhere hunting for her like hounds for game. Panic was beginning to settle into her stomach and she shivered with anticipation, just now realizing she no longer had her clothes on, but a cotton gown that reached just over her knees –and then the bandage soaked in blood and dripping, sight which had her almost jump out of her skin. By the moon, she left a trail of blood all around! Swallowing thickly, she could feel the dread taking over. Clearly, she was done for.

How did she not notice this before? As soon as her mind registered that she was wounded, the hurting began, making her hiss under her breath and almost lose her balance. What were the chances that she would get out of here and not be chased down by those foul creatures again? Even she could smell her own blood and she wasn't even that endowed when it came to sharp senses, except for hearing or seeing, which was starting to get very hard to do right about now.

The enormous doors that were laying in front of her, were surely the exit of the fortress, but as she remained behind one of the wooden columns, yet to be seen, she realized that she only had a scalpel with her and there were two guards standing tall and buff by the doors, which made her attempt almost laughable. Her brother's sword had been lost in the forest chase, when her mare was slaughtered by the wolf, and she despised how its weight was not at her hip when she needed the comfort. Swallowing the knot that formed in her throat again, she made her decision –-she was not going down without fighting…or struggling in her case and hopefully punching an elf on her way. Might as well go down epically, like the heroes of legend. 

Without a second longer, lest she change her mind like a coward, the silverette ran from behind the column towards the great doors, blade gripped tight in her hand as she lunged at the guards that didn't even pull their swords when they saw her coming. The battle cry was admirable, though, and her flawless jab too, until it was dodged and the weapon knocked out of her hand effortlessly by one of the guards, while the other simply grasped her around the torso and lifted her up while she trashed around, kicking and flailing and punching like a child of the wilderness.

"The thief has been found!" one of them shouted, his voice echoing through the fort.

It wasn't long before Tauriel came running with several more guards behind her, eyes flicking hostilely over the woman that was struggling to get free, spewing insults that could make even the most licentious of men blush in shame. Her leg was bleeding again, which meant she opened her wound, but that did not matter now. She had injured the healer who tried to make her better, how dare she? With a frown, the redheaded elleth approached the soldier that kept the woman in a vice grip, her gaze like molten lava "To the dungeons with her!" was the order that she gave not a breath later. But as soon as the soldier who had hold of her was to make for said direction and lock her away, the thunderous voice of the king halted everyone in their spots.

"Aaye!" he approached slowly, his eyes prodding, searching, peering among the many elven guards that had gathered in a crowd, each stepping away to let him pass. First, he  found Tauriel and then, his stormy gaze danced over to the thief  "...nadorhuan," –-but then his heart leaped in his chest, his stomach tightened and his frown vanished completely when her face turned to him in bold defiance. Every tendril of various shades of incandescent striking white-blue stays lined up next to one another, making her eyes themselves seem like a vast white tundra --its as if a blizzard is eternally raging on within a black void in the center that were her pupils.

He breathes in carefully, afraid that if he does so normally, she would disappear from his sight like a mirage.

An old ache spreads through his old body. Celestial, infesting-all eyes, with stark beauty, corporeal, metaphorical, gazing most astutely into his very soul, wretched from loss and war and wrath.

"Iston i nîf gîn,"

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooooo, this happened
> 
> Nikerym = Captain  
> manke naa re? = where is she?  
> heruamin = my lord  
> dina! = be silent!  
> engwarer = ill one  
> Av-'osto! = don't be afraid!  
> melamin = my love  
> Aaye = Halt  
> Nadorhuan = cowardly dog  
> Iston i nîf gîn = I know your face


End file.
